just a dream
by snowball247
Summary: Bilbo has a nightmare about a certain Dwarf King dying for real. Guess who's there to comfort him when he wakes up.
1. I-Nightmares

**A/N: **If anybody ever reads this, I'd just like to say thank you for taking the time to do so. I love you.

**DISCLAIMER: **Sadly, I don't own anything. All of it belongs to one of the greatest literary figures I've never met: J.R.R. Tolkien. Nor am I in contact with PJ, Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage, or anybody else in the Hobbit cast.

**SUMMARY: **Bilbo has a nightmare about a certain Dwarf King dying for real. Guess who's there to comfort him when he wakes up.

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**CHAPTER 1:**

Bilbo was 99.9% sure he was dreaming.

After all, hadn't he been in Beorn's house a mere five minutes ago? The huge oak beams holding up the ceiling in his room the last things he had seen before passing out from sleep deprivation and exhaustion (Not to mention_ serious_ fatigue)?

And, yet, here he was again, clinging onto the uprooted tree trunk with the others, his mind reeling with frantic thoughts of whether or not he was even going to be able to see a single sliver of sunray once more. Suddenly, he felt the tree shift a little. Bilbo felt his heart leap into his throat.

He knew _exactly_ what was going to happen.

Thorin, _his_ Thorin, would face the Pale Orc and his Warg. And nearly die trying in the process.

"Thorin," he heard a voice speak. It took him a minute to realize that the voice was _him_ talking. "What on Earth are you doing?"

The Dwarf King looked at him and Bilbo instinctively leaned a little further away from him. He had learned a while back that whenever Thorin wore that expression on his face, somebody was going to pay in a terrible and grueling way.

"Something I should done a long time ago in Moria," he answered, voice gruff and cold. Without so much as a backward glance at Bilbo, Thorin walked off the trunk, head held high and chin aloft in the way that only royalties could do so without looking rather stupid or idiotic.

Not to mention like a total prat.

"_Thorin!_" he hissed. "_Thorin!_"

But, Thorin paid him no heed. Instead, the Dwarf King pulled Orcrist out of its sheath and hefted the oaken shield he had been named for. With a loud battle cry, Thorin charged. Bilbo looked away, already knowing exactly what was to come.

The Warg's paw hitting Thorin square in the face.

The mace smashing into Thorin's chest.

The Warg biting into him, tearing not only Thorin apart, but him as well. It was just heart-wrenching to watch his beloved get hurt and beaten up. Just like that. Even though said Dwarf didn't have a single clue about his feelings.

He heard Thorin scream; Bilbo couldn't help it.

He twisted his head to the right and almost cried out himself: Thorin was dangling from the wolf-like creature's mouth, as if he were a mere chew toy. A plaything the Warg could amuse himself with. From somewhere to his left, he heard Balin scream "NO!" in one of the most heartbreaking voices he had ever heard in his entire life.

Then, he remembered.

Balin, and very probably everybody hanging onto the tree for dear life, loved Thorin, too.

Just not in the way he did.

Before he even fully realized what he was doing, he had hoisted himself up, not even bothering to pull out the splinters that had gotten underneath the soft skin of his palms. With a shaky breath, he drew his sword out of its scabbard, a blade that had yet to be named Sting (Though Bilbo did not know this, at that time), not quite believing that he was going to do this all over again.

Bilbo didn't mind, though.

He would've given his right arm to experience Thorin's hug of gratitude again.

_You have five seconds_, he told himself. _Five seconds to steel your nerves._

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

With a final exhale, Bilbo ran forward, hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. Halfway through his run, his leg muscles started to protest, screaming for him to _stop! stop! stop! _But, he couldn't. Not when his beloved's life was on the line. Hot adrenaline coursed through Bilbo's body, making him jog harder and faster, pushing his little legs to their limits. Finally, when he was in jumping distance, he threw himself at the Orc, screaming bloody murder.

Like before, he tackled the foul creature to the ground. And, like before, he landed on top of the Orc. It rolled their bodies over, pinning Bilbo to the bottom and raising his sword over Bilbo's head as well. Thanks to the anger, not to mention the _fear_ at having almost lost Thorin a _second_ time, his head was perfectly clear. Not a single cloud in sight.

He blocked the Orc's sword with his own, surprising it, and giving him ample time to switch their positions.

Bilbo straddled the Orc, putting all of his weight onto the Orc's abdomen, and stabbed, letting it all of his anger and fury out.

Once.

_**That **__was for nearly taking him away again._

Twice.

_**That **__was for hurting him and making him suffer._

Thrice.

_And __**this**__? __**This **__is for me. _

Yes, that was enough.

He pulled his sword, the 'letter-opener', as Balin had affectionately called it, out of the dead Orc's body and stood up, tripping slightly as he shielded Thorin's body with his own, putting the Dwarf King behind him. He held his bloody sword aloft, eyes ablaze with the fire of having killed something twice as big as him. Not to mention the Warg from earlier.

"Hah!" he yelled, waving his sword. "Back! Back!"

Azog's lips merely curled upwards into an Orkish version of a smile. And, in the firelight reflecting of Bilbo's blade, he looked like a monster.

(Which, in Bilbo's opinion, he _was_.)

He muttered something in the Black Tongue, making the hair on Bilbo's neck stand up on end.

_Any minute now. Any minute now. I'm going to wake up and all of this will be gone._

The Wargs moved in, teeth bared, spittle dripping from the sides of their mouths, hungry for one fresh kill.

_I'm just dreaming. I'm just dreaming. I'm just-Oh, by the Valar! Why isn't anything happening?_

The first Warg lunged.

Bilbo closed his eyes.

Just as it started to rip his throat and heart out.


	2. II-Dreams

**A/N: **Once again, a massive thank you for having read this far! If any of you have reviewed, 'favorited', or followed me or my story, another massive thank you, then! I love you!

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own 'The Hobbit'. Neither do I own its movie adaptation. 'Tis a sad tale, but 'tis true as well.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2:**

"Bilbo! Bilbo! Bilbo, for the love of Aulë, _wake up!_"

Bilbo's eyes snapped open.

He was back.

Here.

In Beorn's Carrock.

And Thorin, of all people, was right beside him.

Before he could even think about what he was going to do, he had leapt up and wrapped his arms around Thorin's neck, burying his nose in the crook of Thorin's shoulder. It took him half a minute to realize that Thorin's rough hands were encircling his waist, pulling him close and _hugging him back_. To add to his surprise, Thorin suddenly pressed his lips to the crown of Bilbo's forehead, kissing it gently. Afterwards, he put his head on top of Bilbo's, bumping the point of his chin against the top of Bilbo's head.

"Erm, Thorin-?" Bilbo asked, awkwardness evident in his tone.

"Yes?" Thorin rumbled.

And it wasn't in his usual gruff accent, either.

No, Thorin was all kindness for the moment.

Bilbo wondered whether it was because he had surprised the Dwarf King with his hug, or whether Thorin was just as sleepy as he was.

(He suspected it was a mixture of both.)

"What are you doing in my room?"

At that, Thorin leaned away from him.

Was it a trick of the light? Or was _Thorin Oakenshield_, son of Thrain, son of Thror, actually blushing at a Hobbit's careless comment?

"Ah, yes, I couldn't sleep."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"And I heard you screaming. I immediately thought you were in danger, so I barged in, and only realized that you were dreaming when I saw nobody was in here with you. Is that a good enough explanation, Halfling?"

Thorin wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Was there something else you wished to tell me?" Bilbo asked in a soft tone, reaching out to touch Thorin's sleeve, then jerking his hand back at the last minute. The last thing he needed the most right now was to have Thorin angry at him again. He had learned the hard way that the soon-to-be King-Under-The-Mountain didn't like physical contact. Especially the ones that were reassuring and brought comfort.

"Uh, yes," Thorin answered, clearing his throat. "If it doesn't bring you discomfort when I mention this, of course." Bilbo laughed. "How will it bring me discomfort if I don't even know what on Middle Earth you are talking about?" he teased. One side of Thorin's mouth twitched upwards, making Bilbo obsess further over said lips' owner's perfection.

"Well, you were muttering your name in my sleep."

Bilbo's cheeks went red; he looked away.

Of course.

It had always been a habit of his when he was but a young Hobbit: to mutter the names of the people he was having a dream, or in Thorin's case, nightmare about.

"What exactly were you dreaming about, Bilbo?"

The sound of his name falling from Thorin's lips made his head snap around.

It'd been the first time the Dwarf King had properly acknowledged him, calling him by his first name and not by his last. Or, if Thorin was too lazy enough, merely calling him 'Hobbit' or 'Halfling'.

Bilbo opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

He was starting to look like a fool. Which he very probably was, what with the way he kept on gaping and acting.

"Forget it, Halfling."

Bilbo groaned internally.

So, they were back to the old ways, were they?

"I can see this topic has caused you to feel uneasy. I never should've brought it up. I will leave you now. Good night," Thorin said abruptly, his tone authoritative and stern once more.

_Either voice was just as beautiful anyway_, Bilbo thought, making his cheeks flare up once more.

He felt his bed sag; Thorin had just stood up.

Without thinking, Bilbo reached out and latched his fingers onto Thorin's light-blue shirt sleeve. "Wait," he said, though it sounded more like a plea to him. "Yes, Halfling?" Thorin asked, turning around to face him once more.

In the moonlight, Thorin's face looked healthy and young, the silver light making the grey flecks in his crystal blue eyes come out, making him all the more beautiful.

"I-I-I was d-d-dreaming about y-y-you dying for r-r-real," Bilbo sputtered out. Once he got those seven words out, the rest spewed out much more easily. Like a gigantic dam of water that had burst open.

"And it was _so_ horrible. I, I mean, we, yes, _we_ couldn't do anything, but watch. It was like my feet were glued to the spot and everything was happening ten times as slower than it had two days ago. And it was painful. _So_ painful watching you writhe around on the ground like that because you mean so much to me, Thorin. More than you could ever know and I-_Oh!_"

Bilbo was suddenly cut off when Thorin pulled him closer and claimed his lips with his own, their eyes, moss-green and crystal blue, fluttering shut on their own accord.

_I'm kissing him_, Bilbo thought. _I'm actually kissing him_.

It was like he had suddenly lost the ability to breathe, Thorin's mouth the only possible source of oxygen he needed. And, truth be told, he was happy. After all, who knew how long he would be able to enjoy this small luxury? To taste Thorin on his tongue, to feel his hard body against his own lean one? To be allowed access in the deepest crevices of Thorin's mouth, to hear the Dwarf King moan whenever he sucked on his lower lip? To knot his fingers in Thorin's black-grey hair, carding through every inch as their kisses became much more desperate and needy?

Finally, when neither of them could breathe any longer, they pulled apart, lips red and swollen. Thorin leaned his forehead against Bilbo's, who was now kneeling on the bed to match the Dwarf King's height. Thorin's eyes were shut, a rumble of pleasure resonating in his throat.

"Are you mad?" Thorin asked after a lengthy period of comfortable silence, opening his eyes to stare into Bilbo's moss-green orbs. "M-M-Me? Mad? No. Not at all," Bilbo flummoxed.

"Good.

Thorin smiled.

"Lovely," he said, lips curling into a smile once more.

Then, as if they had done it a million times, Bilbo moved over, the hand still clutching Thorin's sleeve pulling him into bed beside him. He realized, with a rush of delight, that his body fit perfectly into Thorin's, his body forming a cocoon over the Hobbit's smaller one. From time to time, Thorin pressed his lips to Bilbo's, pecking it quickly before pulling back to stare into his eyes and hugging him closer.

It was a little smothering, but Bilbo wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Bilbo?" Thorin whispered after a little while.

"Hmmmf?" Thorin answered, half asleep.

"How long have you….felt…._this_? This love for me?"

Bilbo was wide awake now, his mind reeling a thousand miles an hour.

Come to think of it, he _never_ had thought about it before. It was like love for Thorin had just burst out of nowhere, springing into existence when said Dwarf had appeared onto his doorstep so many months ago.

And…yes.

That was it.

"When you showed up on my doorstep at Bag End a few months ago," Bilbo muttered, trying to stifle a yawn, but failing to do so.

"You are tired," Thorin said with a frown. Bilbo reached up and rubbed the pad of his thumb over Thorin's creased forehead, trying to work the lines out. "Don't frown. It makes you look older," he teased. "I _am_ old," Thorin shot back, catching Bilbo's hand with his free one, the one that Bilbo wasn't using as a pillow, and pressing it to his lips.

"How old, exactly?"

"195."

"Old, indeed. A Hobbit lives to only a hundred. Assuming any Hobbit ever survived their nineties."

"What short lives you astonishing creatures live."

"Well, I'm just glad I managed to spend some of the best months of my 'short' life with you lot."

At that statement, both Dwarf and Hobbit blushed, looking away from each other, cheekbones spotted with color.

"Thorin?"

"Hmmmf?"

"What will the Company think about this?" Bilbo asked, gesturing between himself and Thorin. The Dwarf King just smiled. "They've already guessed about this one ever since the start of our journey. Something about you blushing the minute you saw me?" Thorin said cockily, eyebrows raised in a teasing manner.

As if to prove Thorin's point, Bilbo's cheeks, if it was even possible, turned redder.

Thorin laughed, pulling Bilbo to him once more and squeezing him reassuringly.

"Sleep, my dear Hobbit. I expect this comfort of ours will only last for a few days more before we sleep on earth and hard-packed dirt once again."

"Ah, yes. Sleeping out in the cold with birds using our faces as targets for their early morning rituals. _Fun_."

Thorin merely chuckled again and gave Bilbo one last hug.

"Then, I suppose you should enjoy this while you can."

"I think I quite like that idea."

And that was how the rest of the Company found them the following morning, nestled in each other's arms, Thorin's lips a few inches away from Bilbo's forehead, as if he had fallen asleep kissing it. With a smile, they merely let their Burglar and King sleep.

After all, where was the trouble in letting them dream just a little while more?

* * *

**A/N:** And it's finished! Gosh, I had so much fun writing this! Once again, if you're not tired of hearing this, massive thank you for having read thus far

Also, a few 'background music' suggestions, if you want: If you're reading, or re-reading Chapter 1, it's best to listen to '_Your Guardian Angel_' by the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

For Chapter 2, where Thorin and Bilbo finally, FINALLY, tell each other about their you-know-what's, '_Truly, Madly, Deeply'_ by One Direction is a nice touch.

But, then again, it's up to you guys to listen to whatever you want! It's a free country after all. Reviewing, following, and 'favoriting', again, is most highly appreciated.

Hugs and Kisses,

**snowball247**


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